I would like on this occasion to discuss, not the work that goes into translating
texts, but that which we are all making in our effort to translate the practice
of Buddhism. Maybe it hasn't occurred to you that you are a translator. We are
all translators in the sense that the teachings which we have inherited from
our Asian brothers and sisters can not be simply uprooted and replanted in another
place on the planet without due attention to the differing environmental conditions.
While there are certain principles that hold universally there is much that
is relative to culture and tradition. So I suggest that the manner in which
we are taking up this practice and the kind of effort we are making is our contribution
to this shared task of translation. Can we become more conscious of this?
I have spoken often about identifying that which pertains to form and that which
is the domain of spirit. Mixing up these aspects can mean that we put emphasis
in the wrong place. In so doing we end up with results that we didn't bargain
for. But sorting out these matters is far from easy. The sparkling radiance
of these exotic teachings and techniques readily dazzle us. Especially since
we have been in the dark for so long. And we might feel contented to settle
for an initial response to this new-found light. However, the Buddha was consistent
on his encouragement to not be fooled by the way things appear to be; only after
careful scrutiny should we fully accept something to be true. This is talking
about coming to know the benefit directly for ourselves. It is not suggesting
we dismiss things because we don't immediately see the sense in them. So how
should we approach this?
Discerning essence
Surely the point of our taking up the Buddhist Way is to find support for our
heart's yearning to be free. And naturally we begin by observing the way that
others engage practice. But because a particular technique or system has been
applied successfully by one person does not automatically mean that it will
work for everyone. Those forms may have served well the aspirations of somebody
else, but they are not automatically going to serve ours. It is wise to question
ourselves: 'What am I in this for? What is important to me. What is it that
is quickened in me when I see a teacher, or hear a teaching,?' I like to think
about religious conventions as being like conventions around eating. If we are
hungry then the point of eating food is to become free from the pain of hunger.
Whether you go to a Japanese restaurant and eat with chopsticks or a Thai restaurant
and eat with a spoon, or an Indian restaurant and eat with your fingers or whatever
... the conventions are not the point. The point is that we feel fed. So it
is with practice. The point is that our hearts feel nourished. Our task is just
that: to identify what it is that is nourishing and focus on that. This is the
spirit. If we give this priority, whatever this may be in our case, then the
forms which support it will rightly evolve. To not do so means we might be missing
out on something worth having.
One thing we could be missing is a creative participation in our enquiry. If
our translation is going to be effective, we have to be creatively involved
with it. Yes, we respect the forms that we inherit, that's where we begin. And
at times that requires we simply do what we are told - learning the form at
this stage is the priority. For example if we are learning Tai Chi; we don't
question the master because it feels uncomfortable and on our third lesson make
some suggestions as to how the form could be altered. No. In the beginning we
might feel awkward and look a little silly. However we simply learn the form
and humbly accept that it doesn't feel right yet, remembering that these forms
are supports for spirit - in this case Chi. If we practice the form with commitment
then we do eventually learn to relax into the form. Then the Chi starts to move
and we are grateful.
So we are not dismissing forms. We take up the form and wait until it settles
for us. Then we feel for the spirit moving. When we are fully familiar with
the spirit then that becomes the priority. Now we are in touch with the essence.
This way forms which need to change will do so without compromising or obstructing
spirit. If we attempt to change things too soon, based on our likes and dislikes,
then we could be creating obstructions.
Holding lightly
We respectfully look at the practices that we take on, feeling for the spirit;
the teacher says practise this way, don't practise that way. We do what the
teacher says but, as we proceed we are checking and feeling. We are not just
believing. It is necessary to trust our teacher but trust is not mere belief.
There is a big difference between trusting in what a teacher is offering and
believing in them and their techniques. Many of us came into this path with
conditioning from a different religious tradition; one which holds up belief
as the whole point. Such an approach can not be applied in Buddhist teachings.
In Buddhism beliefs are functional. We believe in things like rebirth for example;
when we die we are reborn. But most of us don't know that to be objectively
true. I don't know that it's true. I believe it. But the way in which I believe
it, means, if somebody says it is all nonsense, then that's OK. I don't mind.
They can have that view if they wish. I choose to hold to the belief that there
is this process of rebirth, but I hold it lightly. The belief is not the end
point.
When our teacher tells us to practice a certain way we take it on trust. The
Buddha used an image of a goldsmith purifying gold to describe our effort to
purify our relationship with the teachings; it's a process of removing the dross
over and over again until you get pure gold. We purify our relationship to the
teachings by cultivating enquiry, with feeling, into how it works for us. When
we are practising various exercises and techniques and we find something is
not working, we start having doubts. That's fine. Doubts do not have to be an
obstruction in our practice. Doubts can also indicate that the spirit of enquiry
is alive within us.
Enquiry is something that comes naturally to us in the West and we should value
it. This is one of the contributions we are able to make to this task. We shouldn't
automatically assume, that because our experience appears to contradict that
which someone else is saying, that they are right and we are wrong. We listen.
We feel it. We enquire. And if we proceed with a willingness to go gradually,
translating everything we experience into practice, then I trust that an organic
and lasting understanding will be born out of our effort.
As we discover for ourselves what works and what doesn't, a confidence grows,
bringing benefit to us individually and to the community at large. Discovering
our own true way of practice is like finding a good restaurant; the first thing
you want to do is take your friends along. My sense is that if we arrive at
such confidence in a gradual way by respectfully questioning as we go along,
we spontaneously find our own ways of expressing it. We are not just using other
people's words. Such confidence will spill over - we won't even notice it happening
- but others will.
Two orientations of effort
One way of illustrating this task of translating the practice is to look more
closely at the ways we internalise the teachings on effort. If the kind of effort
we make is not coming from a place of confidence, not only are we wasting energy,
we could actually be doing ourselves harm. I see a lot of confusion in the way
many Western meditators relate to the different types of effort required in
practice. Sometimes there is a somewhat naive hope that by endlessly plugging
away doing what they have been doing for years something good will come out
of it.
These days I am convinced that there are basically two distinctly different
orientations of effort. And we all have our own natural way of progressing on
the path which we need to find. If we are practising somebody else's way then
it might not work for us. I tried to practise for many years by having a goal
'out there' to strive towards. As I heard the teachings I understood this is
what I should be doing. I received instruction in various techniques which were
oriented towards realisation of this goal. The goal was called enlightenment
or the deathless and so on but it was always 'out there in the future'. I was
encouraged to make great effort to achieve the goal and to break through those
things that obstructed progress towards it. And even when the words didn't directly
say the goal was 'out there' that was how I heard the message.
Eventually I found myself in a terribly frustrating knot. At one point I felt
that my whole commitment to practice was seriously challenged. Gratefully, with
some help, I came to realise that the struggle I was caught in was about the
very feeling of having to get somewhere. I had to 'fix' myself somehow and change
what I was and get somewhere else. Clearly it wasn't working, so I gave up.
In giving up I experienced a feeling like beginning a journey home. What a relief!
Just when I was beginning to wonder if the journey itself was about to come
to a sudden and sad ending. It felt like settling into something perfectly natural.
And with this shift came a feeling, initially unnoticed, of being personally
responsible. This was new.
From this experience grew a practice characterised by a strong sense of trusting
in that which already exists. This was altogether different from striving towards
achieving some goal. The effort that this new appreciation spontaneously called
forth was 'not seeking'. My attention was - and is - looking and feeling in
this moment; ' Where and when do I judge this situation as being somehow inadequate
or wrong or lacking?' I found I was able to see quite clearly when I imposed
on life some notion of how it should be. 'It shouldn't be this way, it should
be that way'. Practice became simply, but resolutely, being with this awareness.
Now I refer to this as source-oriented practice; a trusting heart intuiting
that what we are looking for is right here, it isn't anywhere else, it isn't
somewhere out there.
Faulty will
Many of us start meditating with a faculty of will that is not doing its job
properly. In trying so hard and for so long to wilfully fix ourselves up, we
have abused the very faculty of will. If you abuse alcohol for a period of years
and become alcoholic, you can never again have a social drink. In our case we
have over-used will. Now we can't help but over-do it and interfere with everything
that happens. We can not simply receive a situation and gently apply will to
direct and guide attention. If we find something we think is wrong we tend to
automatically slam an opinion on it - 'it shouldn't be this way'. Then we set
about wilfully trying to fix it.
For those of us who suffer this dysfunction, engaging will as the primary tool
of meditative effort just doesn't work. However, we can disengage from will
and abide in a mode of trusting in that which already is, trusting that reality
is, trusting that truth is, and trusting that if we simply stop interfering
with our compulsively judging mind, then an accurate and conscious appreciation
of that which already is will reveal itself.
If you follow a path of practice that is goal-oriented you can expect to have
a clear concept of what you should be doing and where you should be going. There
will be appropriate actions to take for any obstacles that you might encounter.
But if your path of practice is source-oriented it is not like this at all.
Here you come to sit in meditation and you might begin by checking body posture,
making sure the back is upright and head resting comfortably on the shoulders,
chest open, belly at ease and then sitting there, bring into awareness that
you don't know what you are doing. You simply don't know. All you know is that
you are sitting there (and there may be times when even that you can't be sure
of). You don't hang on to anything. But you do pay attention to watching the
tendency of the mind to want to fix anything. Interest is focussed on the movement
of mind towards taking sides, for and against.
Usually when I sit in meditation I do nothing. I assume a conscious posture
and simply observe what's happening; maybe the mind is all over the place thinking
about the liquorice I had the other night at somebody's house, about how its
a pity the sun has gone, about how I will be in Beijing this time next week,
or how the monks at Harnham sent an Email asking whether they should use gloss
paint for the doors in the monastery kitchen and so on .... . Such thoughts
might be going through my mind and they are absolute nonsense but I do nothing
with them. Absolutely nothing, until I start to feel a little bit uncomfortable
and then watch to see where that discomfort is coming from. It is always coming
from the same place: 'I shouldn't be this way. I should be ... My mind should
be clear, I shouldn't be ...'. Once this movement is identified a settling occurs.
When we identify that which takes us away from our natural feeling of centredness
we come home. This is not neccessarily the kind of effort one would be making
in goal-seeking.
Knowing for yourself
Most of us have a natural tendency to incline in one of these two directions
of effort. Some people are contented and confident when they have a clear sense
of where they are supposed to be going. Others, if they focus on the idea of
a goal, end up depressed, feeling like they are failing; trying to stop thinking,
trying to sit properly, trying to make themselves happy, trying to be loving,
trying to be patient, trying to be mindful, and always failing. What a terrible
mistake! The worst disease of meditators: trying to be mindful. Some quit, feeling
they had been wasting their time. However, if we realise that we don't have
to do anything other than be present with an awareness of the compulsive judging
mind and its chronic tendency to take sides for and against then our minds settle.
It is useful to understand how each of these two orientations has particular
merits at different stages of practice. In the beginning, to build up some confidence,
it is necessary that we have a good grasp of techniques. Even though we may
relate more readily to source-oriented practice, if we haven't found a firm
foundation on which to practice, or, even if we have found that firm foundation
but our life is very busy, it can still be appropriate at times to make effort
to exercise will and focus. The two orientations are not mutually exclusive.
I encourage people in the beginning to be very disciplined and count their breaths,
one to ten, ten to one, every out breath - one, two, three, up to ten. Ten,
nine, eight down to one. Being quite precise in the effort made. This way we
get to know that our attention is our attention. We are not slaves, nor are
we victims. If our attention is wandering off and we get caught up in resentment
or desire, then we need to know that we are responsible for that. Our practice,
whether we are goal-oriented or source-oriented, is not going to progress, until
we are clear that we are responsible for the quality of attention with which
we operate.
To reach this perspective it may be necessary to exercise a rigorous discipline
of attention for a long period of time. Yet when we reach the point where we
sense we could either continue making that kind of effort, refine down the techniques
and systems in pursuit of a goal, but we somehow feel it isn't true to do so,
then we need to be ready to adjust; to let go altogether of seeking anything.
If it is right for us to make this choice then, when on doing so, we hear someone
going on about their way of practice, we can say, 'oh, OK, that's fine'. We
won't be shaken. It is really important that we don't keep letting ourselves
be shaken by somebody else's enthusiasm.
As we settle more comfortably and confidently into making our own 'right effort'
it becomes easier to recognise the various strengths and weaknesses of different
styles of practice. In goal-oriented practice, for example, it is probably easier
to generate energy. With a clear concept of what you are supposed to be doing,
attention narrows, all distractions are excluded and you focus, focus, focus,
focus. By being so exclusive, energy gathers; this way you readily observe yourself
progressing along the path. This in turn supports faith. Of course there is
a shadow side to this and it is directly related to this strength. In being
so exclusive you risk chopping out things which could be useful. There is a
danger of denial taking over. If old neurotic habits of avoidance have not been
addressed and you take up goal seeker's practice these tendencies become compounded.
This can be the birth of fundamentalism.
One of the strengths of source-oriented practice is that as we release out of
striving and aiming for something other than here and now, a balanced, whole
body-mind relaxation emerges. And this draws on our creativity. We have to be
creative since by not excluding anything, everything must be translated into
practice. There is no situation that is not a practice situation. However, that
which appears as creativity can also be harbouring delusion. If we are so happy
and relaxed that we are getting lazy or heedless with the precepts for example,
then we need to know what is going on.
Another danger in source-oriented practice is that when we really do get into
a pickle we could feel disinclined to do anything about it. This tends to happen
because we don't relate anymore towards structures in the way we used to. Faith
for us is inspired, not by a concept of what we hope lies ahead, but by that
which we trust is already essentially true. However, if the clouds of fear and
anger overshadow the radiance of our faith we can tremble badly, possibly even
crumble. In this case it is important that we have already cultivated spiritual
friendship. To have the blessing of association with others with whom we share
a commitment to conscious relationship is an incomparably precious resource.
When we gather in spiritual companionship a resonance is struck up in which
we rightly feel safe. This relative security can be for us what concepts and
goals are for spiritual technicians.
As we progress in our practice each of us has the task of checking to see whether
we are moving into or out of balance. But how do we assess how things are moving?
I say, if we are moving into balance it means we can handle more situations.
There are more states of greater complexity that we can accommodate. If we are
moving out of balance it means we can handle fewer and fewer situations - instead
of spiritual practice liberating us and opening us up to life, it makes us exclusive
and painfully cut off.
So it is wise for us all to examine our practice and see if we can find in which
direction we feel we move most easily, which orientation of effort comes most
naturally to us, what sort of language works. We need to prepare ourselves with
the understanding that teachers of these different approaches use different
ways of talking. So listen to the teachings you receive, and contemplate that
which you read in books and see what makes sense to you. And then, I reckon
you should go with that.
So this evening I am hopefully encouraging us all in investigating our contribution
to this way of practice at this stage in its unfolding. Our careful enquiry
means we will come to recognise our weaknesses, individually and collectively,
and when we become quietly aware of our deficiencies we get creative. We can
translate the practice. Adaptation will happen where it is necessary and it
will be in the service of Dhamma. Possibly we won't even notice it. We will
just know that the spirit of the Way is alive within us and that our hearts
are more at ease.
Thank you very much for your attention.